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Chapter One

HUDSON

L ove sucker punches me.

But what do you expect when an angel’s headed straight for the door of your tattoo parlor?

I watch her float through the parking lot, wearing a slinky, black, knee-length dress with long sleeves and a V-neck that hugs her abundant curves.

Curves for fucking days. And a thick head of platinum blonde hair that reaches well past her shoulders, the curled ends caressing her decolletage and turning my insides out.

She’s stunning. Perfection.

Her ivory legs are thick and shapely, round calves inviting me to palm her flesh, feather her body in a thousand whispered kisses. Tiny feet squeezed into black stiletto heels, she looks good enough to eat.

I shake my head, trying to clear the delectable thought from my mind as I stand at the window, licking my lips. My heart hammers against my ribs. In forty-two years on this planet, I’ve never felt anything this overpowering.

“Motherfucker.” Drew frowns next to me.

“What?” I grumble, barely listening to the asshole.

“What in the fuck is Hadleigh doing here?”

“Wait, you know her? ” I ask, instantly jealous.

Drew’s a piece of fucking shit. Deceitful, manipulative, and weaselly. He should not know this woman. They shouldn’t even exist on the same plane. I may not know a thing about her, but I can already tell she’s too good for him.

But then again, I have a serious axe to grind with Drew. He’s the reason I should never take pity on fellow addicts not committed to change. Because nine times out of ten, they’re not ready to do the hard work that I did to make something of myself. To come back after getting strung out on opioids.

The VA handed scripts out to me like candy … along with anti-depressants, sleeping aids. Shit that had me messed up as fuck until I found a new reason to live and move forward, thanks to my buddy, Roscoe Vaughn.

He owns a massive, off-grid property in the mountains above New Brunswick, which he has transformed into a community for veterans and wounded warriors.

I fit into both categories and have made nature my solace ever since.

Replacing the drive for a quick fix or emotional and physical numbing with outdoor living and a business and lifestyle I can be proud of.

“She’s my little sister,” Drew grumbles. “A little goody two-shoes who does no wrong. A mama’s girl. I can only imagine what she’s here for.”

Mentally, I slam him against the wall and shove a finger in his face, warning him never to say another off-color word about this breathtaking woman.

But the last thing I need is a bad first impression with her, especially since I doubt she knows the kind of mad shit her brother talks behind her back. He’s two-faced like that.

Head spinning and too overwhelmed by the crazy feelings still gripping me, I shift my weight, glued to the spot. I let out a deep warning growl that Drew won’t get. He has the social know-how of a puddle of mud.

Last minute, the woman veers, shuffling quickly toward a black Lincoln Corsair parked near the back of the lot. She greets two men who hop out, popping the hands-free tailgate.

Drew scowls. “See? She’s always sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“One more word out of you,” I grumble, stroking my beard and despising the sight of her talking to other men. “Who the fuck are they?”

He shrugs, face bitter. “The wrong crowd,” he says, using his fingers to make air quotes, his voice disparaging.

“What’s wrong with you?” I scold, glaring at him.

Drew shrugs. “She won’t let me lead my own life. Always has to mess in my business. Usually on Mom’s behalf.”

“You should be happy you have a mother and sister who care at all,” I reply, frowning.

“And she knows those guys, too?” I ask, my gut twisting.

Something’s off about this situation … from Hadleigh’s body language to how the guys eye her.

I beeline for the door, Marine instincts kicking in. “Answer me, Drew,” I bark.

“Just associates?—”

The man to Hadleigh’s left shoves her into the back of the Lincoln, slamming the tailgate. I burst through the door, roaring as their tires squeal and peel out of the parking lot.

My feet hammer on the pavement, eyes straining to read the California license plate. My stomach knots as Hadleigh lifts her head, palms pressed on the glass of the back window. Her eyes catch mine for a split second that feels haunting, timeless. I have to save her, no matter what.

Drew stands next to me, hands on his head. His face looks anguished. “Shit. I told her not to get involved?—”

The last thread of patience breaks, and I grab him by the scruff of his collar, shoving him backwards against the front of the tattoo parlor’s brick facade. “Who the fuck are they?” I scream.

Drew shakes his head. I slam him against the front of the building again. “Who?” My heart races, mind spinning. I need to follow them. But I have to question Drew. Figure out how big a gun to bring to whatever fucking fight this is.

“People I owe money to,” he screams, sniveling as snot runs down his nose.

“For drugs?”

He nods.

“Dammit!” I scream, sprinting for my bike. “Pick up my phone if I call you. Or you’re worse than dead, motherfucker!” I grab my helmet, shoving it on and ripping out of the parking lot on my Harley in hot pursuit of Hadleigh and the men in the black SUV.

“Call sheriff’s department,” I order into my headset as I drive.

After a few rings, a watery voice answers. “Sheriff’s Department, how may I help you?”

“Steph, Hudson Adair. In pursuit of two men in a black Lincoln Corsair who just abducted a woman from the parking lot of my tattoo shop.”

I start to give her the address, but Steph cuts me off. “Already have it.”

I search for signs of the car or Hadleigh. It’s as though they disappeared in the moments it took me to question Drew and get on my ride. “California license plate starting with an eight and ending in an S, though I didn’t get the rest.”

“Did you say in pursuit?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know if the men are armed?”

Drew needed to fess this shit up when I banged him into the wall, not answer me with obtuse fucking statements. I assume the worst, since they’re already abductors. “Yes.”

“Do not engage.”

“Roger that.” In truth, I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to save Hadleigh, already internally kicking myself for precious minutes wasted on questioning her brother. The fucker doesn’t care about anybody but himself.

“Andrew Bardot, who works at my tattoo parlor, just stood in the parking lot admitting to me that they deal him drugs. And he’s behind on cash.

Send a deputy to the shop for questioning to get it straight from the horse’s mouth.

My guess is that’s why they’ve abducted her, but I don’t know for sure.

I’ll keep eyes on the vehicle, if I can, stay in touch with the department until help arrives. ”

“And the description of the men and the woman?”

“Six foot two, six foot three for each man. Mid to late thirties. The driver wore black with a buzz cut, clean-shaven, and tattoos on his face. The passenger, who shoved the girl in the back of the SUV, has short, curly black hair, dark eyes, an olive complexion, and neck tattoos. Not sure about the face. Dark clothes, too. Slim builds and poor posture, definitely not military men. As for the woman …”

God, how do I describe that stunning angel?

“Name’s Hadleigh Bardot, Drew’s little sister. Five foot five or six with a curvy body, long platinum blonde hair, and a heart-shaped face and cleft chin. Early to mid-twenties, wearing a little black dress with long sleeves, black heels, and a matching black bag.”

Ahead of me, about a hundred yards, the car comes into sight.

Thank God! Weaving through traffic and giving it more throttle, I push through the intersection, nearly colliding head-on with a semi-truck to catch up with the vehicle.

My death won’t do Hadleigh any good, I remind myself, dialing it back slightly as I continue slithering through noon traffic.

“I have eyes on the vehicle again,” I say, narrowing my gaze. “License plate eight seven five POS.” POS is right. The irony of the plate would make me laugh under any other circumstances. Instead, my heart races, my breath quickening as I strategize next moves.

“We’re tracking your cell signal, but there could be a slight lag time, especially with the storm front moving in?—”

“I’m northbound on I-8, heading towards the preserve.

” The preserve’s a local hangout for birdwatchers and nature lovers, twenty miles out of town.

It connects with a series of trailheads that disappear into the deep woods.

Although two gangsters in a Lincoln don’t strike me as the type to vanish into the wilderness, I put nothing past anyone up here.

“We have officers en route. Please update us if anything changes. Stay frosty, soldier, and keep your head on a swivel.”

“Will do.” I know Steph, the dispatcher, because shit tends to happen in front of tattoo parlors. Especially with employees like douchebag attracting trouble like flies. So she knows I’m a former Marine and loves saying shit like this.

Closing the distance, I whiz through traffic like my ass is on fire.

Construction in the area means delays and a line of bumper-to-bumper cars.

It’s not usual in Alpha Ridge Creek, and the timing couldn’t be worse.

Accelerating, I catch sight of Hadleigh’s face through the back window, round eyes panic-stricken.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Gunfire pierces the air. Neck tatts leans out the window, sights on me.

His aim proves more inadequate than his judgment, his fate already sealed.

I duck low on my ride. Clearly, these are rinky-dink criminals, probably high as fucking kites.

My stomach roils, my angel at their mercy. She ducks, and I lose sight of her.

Maneuvering the motorcycle evasively, I long for my pickup.

It would provide a whole helluva lot more cover.

I could ram the SUV with it if I had to.

My hand aches for my shoulder-holstered firearm to engage these motherfuckers.

But I can’t get a clean shot off with Hadleigh’s whereabouts in the vehicle unknown.

Two sheriff’s deputies buzz past to the ear-splitting wheeze of sirens. The black vehicle surges, law enforcement in hot pursuit. Bile rises in my throat. If anything happens to that curvy beauty, I’ll burn this goddamned town to the ground, starting with her miscreant brother.

As for Hadleigh’s abductors? They’re already six feet under. I swear internally to make that transition as excruciating as fucking possible.